


So Where Are My Flowers?

by tehfanglyfish



Series: Fun With Ficlets [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Deviates From Canon, Flowers, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Pining Arthur, Sweet Merlin (Merlin), like a tiny bit, only a small amount of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: A question asked as a joke leads to years of fresh flowers waiting for Arthur each morning until the one day he almost screws things up.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Fun With Ficlets [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1371040
Comments: 109
Kudos: 1356





	So Where Are My Flowers?

**Author's Note:**

> Not my franchise, not my characters, not my profits. Not even my flowers.

❀❀❀❀❀❀

Three thousand five hundred eighty-six - the exact number of mornings Arthur Pendragon had started the day with fresh flowers waiting for him.

It had begun years ago, the first bouquet arriving the day after he’d made an offhand comment to Merlin, teasing his then-new servant about the flowers he’d given Morgana. Merlin had blushed and stammered, much to Arthur’s amusement.

He hadn’t given the matter more thought until the following morning when he’d found a haphazard arrangement of wildflowers sitting on the table with his breakfast. For the first time since he entered Arthur’s service, Merlin threw himself into tidying the prince’s chambers, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Over the years, Arthur would learn to recognize this as a sign of nervousness.

On that particular morning, Arthur was so caught up in his own conflicting emotions that he almost made a grievous mistake.

“These certainly are…”

The words ‘girly’ and ‘ridiculous’ danced on the tip of his tongue, defensive barbs ready to be hurled to protect Arthur. No son of Uther could openly admire the beauty of flowers, even if he secretly longed for them.

Just before the words slipped out, Arthur noticed Merlin’s body stiffen ever so slightly, as if he was preparing his own mental shield.

“…a nice surprise. Very… floral.”

A tiny upturn of a smile was Merlin’s only response.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. Arthur was the crown prince, after all. People gave him things all the time. But this was different – Merlin wasn’t trying to win favor or climb in status. There was no political maneuvering or manipulation at play. It was a simple gift, presented not as part of a ceremony or to fulfill an obligation.

Merlin had given him flowers as an act of kindness to indulge a secret whim. And that made Arthur’s chest tighten in a way he had never before experienced.

Nothing more was said about the matter and Arthur expected it to be a one-time affair. But when he awoke the next morning, and the morning after that, and the one that followed, a fresh bouquet was waiting for him. He didn’t know how to put into words what they made him feel, but he made a point to acknowledge them each day, often with words but just as frequently by inhaling the fragrance or simply toying with a bloom.

❀❀❀❀❀❀

A part of Arthur wanted to reciprocate, to shower Merlin in flowers to repay him for this unexpected kindness, but fear held him back – fear of rumors, fear of his father, fear of rejection. He only came close once.

It was late, on the night of a feast where he’d had far too much wine for his own good. Staggering into his chambers, he saw the vase from the morning, and, acting without thinking, he tucked a single blossom behind Merlin’s ear.

If he let his fingers linger against Merlin’s skin a little longer than was necessary, neither of them said anything, though Arthur could’ve sworn that even through the haze of wine, he remembered a hitch in Merlin’s breathing.

“There. You look beautiful,” he said, not feeling anywhere near as drunk as when he’d entered the room.

Merlin had laughed, telling him to sleep it off. But, as he extinguished the candles and made to leave, Arthur noticed Merlin carefully placing the flower into his jacket pocket.

As the years passed, the only times when Arthur wasn’t greeted with flowers were on mornings when Merlin was missing – kept away because of illness, or errands, or too hungover from a tavern adventure. Or so Gaius claimed. There was always something off when the physician mentioned the tavern.

If Merlin was around, flowers were waiting for Arthur. Bouquets greeted him on mornings after triumphs in tournaments and diplomacy. And they were there on the mundane days, when the grind of routine left Arthur almost unable to drag himself out of bed.

When his father died, when Guinevere gently told him that her heart belonged to another, when Morgana hugged him goodbye as she went off to spend time alone healing from the wounds of the past, Arthur knew that he could retreat to his chambers to find comfort in the small tokens of beauty that Merlin left for him.

Sometimes there were giant bouquets, other times just a few stems, but always there were flowers.

Even when away from Camelot on hunting trips, secret missions, and military patrols, Arthur would find at least one blossom waiting beside his bedroll.

There were times when Arthur wondered where the flowers came from, especially during a deep freeze, but he said nothing, secretly fearing if he pried too much, the flow of blossoms might dry up.

❀❀❀❀❀❀

Which was, as it turned out, a valid concern. Because just last night Arthur had accidentally walked in on the answer to his question – several of his questions, actually – what Merlin got up to when he was supposedly at the tavern, why so many battles conveniently turned in Arthur’s favor, how fresh flowers appeared each morning in winter.

To say Arthur handled it well would be a lie. As he stood there, reeling from the shock and the hurt of how much Merlin had kept from him, it was possible that he said some things, hurtful things, that he regretted as soon as they left his mouth.

Now there was a very good chance that Merlin would never bring Arthur flowers again because there was a very good chance that Merlin would never want to see Arthur again. There was likely nothing he could do to fix this, a realization that hurt more than any blow he’d ever taken in battle.

But Merlin was far too important not to try.

Right before dawn, he arrived at Gaius’s door. The old man stood like a sentry, eyeing him up and down in the torchlight from the corridor. After a minute of scrutiny, his demeanor changed.

“He’s in his room. Good luck.”

The door opened almost as soon as Arthur’s knuckles touched the wood. In the low candlelight, blue eyes rimmed with red met his own. Merlin stepped aside so he could enter.

“I… um…”

The words he’d so carefully scripted in his head failed him.

“I brought you these.”

His hand shook as he held out his offering, causing soil to fall to the floor.

“You cabbage head. You pulled them up by the roots.”

“I might have been in a hurry. I was afraid you’d gone…”

Merlin’s fingers were warm as they closed over Arthur’s.

“How did you know lavender was my favorite?”

“Honestly… I didn’t even know what I was picking. It was dark, I just grabbed the first ones I found and came here.”

“Well, they’re beautiful.”

Still holding Arthur’s hand, Merlin leaned down to breathe in the scent.

“As are you. All of you. Even the parts that I didn’t know about before.”

Over the years Merlin had showered Arthur in flowers, but never before like this, fragrant petals raining down while Merlin kissed him so hard that he felt lightheaded.

❀❀❀❀❀❀

There were some changes in the days and months that followed – laws were revised, a new position was added to the royal court, Arthur had to get used to his covers being stolen in the middle of the night. Not that he minded.

It was also possible that a potted lavender plant made its way into the king’s chambers, Arthur acting as though he had no knowledge of it when Merlin asked about its sudden appearance.

Would Uther be horrified to learn that the Pendragon crest had been amended to include a flower crown encircling the dragon’s head? Probably. But Arthur didn’t care. He would choose love and loveliness over bitter hatred any day.

Despite these changes, some things remained the same. For all the remainder of Arthur’s days, not a single morning began without fresh flowers. Merlin still brought him bouquets as he’d done for years, some cultivated and some conjured. And Arthur became very familiar with the palace gardens himself, sneaking out just as frequently to pick an armful of blossoms in the early morning hours so they would be waiting for Merlin when he woke up.


End file.
